The Continued Trek… into my novel.

However, there is one important addition to my life that has not yet, and honestly may never, become a giant black and white photo. The dog I found next to my car. After a period of skulking about the apartment, he has begun to take over. He sleeps on the bed with me at night and spends most of his time at his food bowl on the balcony. His energy is boundless and after stressful days we go running together. Mild mannered and well-behaved, he has to be the best thing, and least complicated relationship, I’ve had in a while. He has a collar but no tags other than those required by law which means I am left without a clue as to who his owner is so I just stuck an ad in the paper and I’ve put his picture up in the office in hopes of finding the real owner. I am currently calling my four-legged salvation “Big Dog” so I’ll at least have something other than “Hey You” to call him while I wait for some response to my ads. After all, what’s the point of becoming so attached to something that you give it a name, when that something is determined to belong to someone else?
“So do you think I should make him pay for this?” I asked the next day as the two of us sat outside the car shop. “I mean, this is the third time in as many weeks. And I have to get it cleaned! I can’t drive a car that smells like that all the time,” I paused and sighed. The immediate response from the dog was to whine and lick my leg. “I don’t know why I’m asking you, Big Dog.” I looked out at the street and stretched my legs into the sun, idly stroking Big Dog’s head as I thought over my schedule. Two no-shows this morning, one appointment at the mechanic during lunch, one full session this afternoon at 3:00 and then a number of updates from 4:00 to close, then home for dinner planning. I grimaced at the thought of pretending to be amused by these well-to-do men and women who would undoubtedly insist on telling me that “Bella” means “beautiful” in Italian, as though I hadn’t been told that from the moment my mother named me. “I’m glad you came to work with me today, boy. Let’s go find some lunch.”

With a nod to the mechanic, the two of us struck out toward the river in search of an outdoor lunch spot. Before long we came upon the City Market and after a quick anti-pep talk with my boy, we headed into the crowd. Around the edges of the open air market there are a number of food vendors and restaurants, but the difficulty is finding one that lets dogs in. That’s zero, by the way. In case you ever think your dog is clean enough to go into a food joint simply because he’s clean enough to sleep on your bed, you’re wrong. Apparently it’s a health hazard. Not that they have to yell or anything.

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